


Trouble With Trauma

by sherlocksavedme



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Fandom, Hamilton - Fandom, LMM - Fandom, Lin-Manuel Miranda - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocksavedme/pseuds/sherlocksavedme
Summary: Alexander Hamilton was pushed to his breaking point in a debate with Jefferson.-Because I am Perpetually Screaming about Alexander Hamilton, I wrote a tiny little fic about him. LMM's adaptation of him is incredible comforting to me, and I've also been traumatized in my life, and this was written solely to process and cope. It's definitely not the best thing I've written, but I gave it a shot. Get it. Shot? Fuck.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is formatted pretty weirdly. It's basically a flashback inside a flashback? Please bear with me, as I only wrote it to try and work through things. It's not my best, but I tried. If you could, please leave a review! Thanks!  
> Find my on tumblr at frank-myhero-iero

“Jefferson is a bitch,” muttered Alex, shoving popcorn into his mouth.  
“God, tell me about it,” John agreed from the other side of the bed. “He’s voting for Trump.” Alex couldn’t tell if he was being entirely sarcastic or not, but it didn’t really matter.  
Alexander frowned deeply as he chewed. “Madison only made him the captain of the debate team because they have the same views.”  
John sat up on his elbows and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl between them. Alex opened his mouth and raised his eyebrows. John tossed popcorn at his nose.  
“Man, fuck you,” he grumbled, swiping at his face. As John grinned, Alex couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Stop it! I’m trying to be angry here, and you aren’t helping.” Laurens snatched the stray popcorn from the bedsheet and ate it, humming in consideration.  
Alexander tsked in frustration and crossly shoveled more popcorn into his mouth, mumbling around it. “I can’t believe he even gets away with half the shit he pulls on the floor. You know how he attacks me? None of that is relevant to what we’re talking about! I bet Madison enjoys it at my expense.” Alexander huffed, pulled his shirt out from his body and let it settle as flat as it could against his chest. He grimaced, then something in his stomach twitched. He paused just as he was about to say something scathing. Bastard. A sour taste rose in the back of his throat.  
He was vaguely aware of John reaching across the bowl of popcorn to take Alex’s greasy fingers in his own. “Today is just not your day, huh, baby?” Alex blinked. Did he say something? He barely felt him there.  
Alex’s face scrunched in confusion for a moment and listened to his pulse pound in his body.  
John glanced over at him, then back at the bed, then did a double-take.  
“Alex?” He looked at him, brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Mr. Hamilton!” Thomas Jefferson cut off Laurens and gave Alexander a seemingly-genuine smile. Alex scowled, then wiped the look off his face as soon as Madison glanced over. He lifted his chin and rose to his feet, clenching his jaw against the scrape the chair made against the tile. Before Madison could notice, Jefferson gave him a sly sneer, and Alex pushed his fingers deep into his pockets. There was no way he’d let him know he made him uneasy. He would catch the upper hand.  
“Senator Jefferson.” He eyed him levelly. “I understand you’re telling me—us—that as college students we deserve to have our taxes meet the top fifteen percent? Surely, no one else in this chamber could willingly meet these requirements! You’ve got a full ride, Jefferson. Not all of us are as lucky.”  
You’re in the top one percent, he yearned to add, but caught his tongue in time. Thomas’ face twitched in irritation at his comment.  
Alex stole a glance at Madison nervously. He had worked hard to keep his condescending tone under wraps the entire cross examination, but didn’t know if he did it well enough that he wouldn’t be called out for harassment.  
Madison lifted his chin slightly and eyed Hamilton closely, but seemed passive enough. He hadn’t bruised his prized student’s ego yet.  
“Alexander,” began Thomas. He gripped his legal pad tighter in his hands. Alex noticed he somehow caught Thomas off guard. He shifted once, then met his gaze with burning indignation, though his tone revealed nothing of the sort. “The amount of money I’ve been blessed with has nothing to do with my contention. What I’m trying to tell you is that with taxes reaching the top fifteen, labor costs will be virtually cut in half.”  
Hamilton bit down against a smile working on his lips. Cut labor costs? How entitled does he think he is? As he thought about it a moment longer, his face split into a grin.  
He spat, “God, labor costs? Have you seen yourself, Jefferson? You got into this school on wealth alone! Who are you to be demanding to cut labor costs? You don’t have any labor to worry about!”  
Jefferson’s eyes narrowed and crossed his arms. “You are incessant, Hamilton!” he exclaimed at last. “This entire legislation has nothing to do with me or my family or my money. Stay on track, please.”  
Alex huffed, knowing his time was running out for cross-ex. He felt Madison’s analytical gaze on him from across the room.  
“My point, Jefferson, is that you’re demanding working-class citizens resting just above the poverty line to give up over half their paycheck for government expenses. That is us—,” he swept an arm out to the classroom and placed a hand to his chest. “Me, who pays his taxes like a loyal American citizen.” He lifted his chin and gave him a hard look. Jefferson’s face was unreadable. “We got here on merit and hard work and dedication. I got here on a scholarship for my labor, for my blood, sweat, and tears. You, however, did not.”  
A stunned silence stretched between them, and for a moment Hamilton thought he had the upper hand. Thomas gave him a smug grin that made his insides churn.  
“So quick-witted, Hamilton,” he jeered.  
“Alas, I admit it,” he snapped in a heated reply, praying he hadn’t missed something in his argument. What could he possibly have on me?  
As Alex shifted his stance, he felt water tug at his ankles. He inhaled sharply and stumbled forward. A murmur of soft whoas came up from the other students, and he felt himself slip from his surroundings.  
Everything was out of focus. Alex’s skin began to burn and his insides crawled with sheer terror. Waves crashed against his temples and he could’ve sworn he heard his neighbor cry out in desperation. Alex was stuck, stuck in something, caught on something. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t move. He heard his mother, this time, scream his name: “Senator Hamilton.” Hamilton gasped for air. Phantom pain raked his back and he stared ahead. An angered Jefferson snapped into view, yanking him back into reality. He heaved a breath and took in every aspect of his opponent’s face. This can’t happen now. Dear Lord, not now!  
“Yes?” he rasped, willing his fingers to stop trembling. He shoved them in his hoodie pockets and gnawed on his lip.  
“You’re the palest I’ve ever seen you! Does this legislation make you that nervous? Do you even have a response?” Thomas tipped his head and sneered, burning holes into Alex. Hamilton clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, narrowing his eyes against him. His jacket felt soaked and heavy against his shoulders, suffocating and weighing him down. He straightened abruptly and yanked at the front of his jacket. You’re okay. You’re not wet. You’re in a classroom. The echoes of the water crashing around him were deafening, and he clamped down hard on his lip. This hasn’t happened before! Not here, not now!  
Alex began to grow hot and fidgeted under the pressure of everyone staring at him. Breathe, Alexander, came his mother’s soft reminder. Breathe, Alexander.  
Alex’s breath caught in his throat and his pulse rang in his ears as he stared at Thomas blankly. He felt his mouth dry up. He frantically pleaded for some sort of relevant, coherent response to spit from his mouth, but all he found to choke out was,  
“Mom.”  
A chorus of sputtering laughter sounded from the rest of the class. As soon as it clicked what he said, Hamilton felt horror grip his spine. Thomas froze for a moment, then burst into a scathing cackle.  
“What the hell do you mean, Hamilton? Are you in your right mind?” Alex backed up into the table behind him and stared, wide-eyed and petrified at his enemy. Get it together! Get it together! You’re in a classroom in America! You’re okay, you’re not drowning anymore!  
The laughter continued, and he tugged hard at his bun full of curls, raked a hand through his hair, then put it up again. He blinked away tears welling up in his eyes and cleared his throat.  
“Oh, I see,” Jefferson cut in snidely. He stuffed a hand in his pocket and lost all professional stance. Alex was beside himself with terror. “You’re what, again? Traumatized? And you miss your mommy?”  
“Shut it, Jefferson!” Alex spat as courageously as he could. Before anyone could stop him, Thomas went on.  
“You’re just bitter because I didn’t come from a country like yours. You wanted sympathy for your tragic past. That’s how you got in this damn school in the first place.”  
“Jesus, I swear to God if you keep—”  
“You’re just a little orphan in this country, Hamilton. All alone, with no money, with no family, with no mommy.”  
“Shut up!” Alex could barely make out more than a squeak. He knew he was visibly trembling. Intrusive memories and flashbacks were always exhausting, but to have someone tear him apart like this?  
“Enough!” Madison slammed a hand on his desk that rang out across the room, silencing everyone immediately. Alex leaped backwards and his heart hammered wildly. They all turned to look at him, and Hamilton hastily wiped tears from his face before anyone could see.  
“Jefferson, outside!” Madison bellowed. Hamilton felt dizzy and exhausted. He leaned a palm onto the table and squeezed his eyes shut. He was terrified, absolutely terrified.  
As he felt Jefferson breeze past him, he hissed, “Bastard!”  
Alex felt bile lurch in his throat. A new voice cut in. A voice he hadn’t heard in over a decade. Bastard son. Son of a whore.  
In that moment, hot, boiling fury exploded from Alexander. “No one gets to call me that anymore!” He whirled around, and, before he knew what he was doing, lunged at Jefferson and slugged him hard across the face.  
Every nerve in Alex’s body fired alive as he connected his fist with his face. Jefferson let out a yelp of surprise and staggered backwards, holding a hand over his face. Alex’s knuckles stung and he drew them close to his chest, gritting his teeth. The entire class erupted in cries of surprise and indignation. His pulse roared in his ears and he stole a glance at Jefferson. The boy was fuming as blood trickled down from a gash under his eye. Madison whipped around and stared, open-mouthed and horrified. For once, the professor was speechless.  
Alex looked at his knuckles and shook out his hand, swallowing down a smile. Finally getting to punch Thomas Jefferson in the face? That was satisfying as hell.  
Needless to say, Alexander was kicked out of the class for almost an entire semester. Jefferson had one day of OSS and got to go back sooner. Trading in his hard-earned education for a scuffle wasn’t entirely worth it, but hey, there was a first time for everything.


End file.
